Page 18 of Dr. Do-Right
“Enjoy your evening,” he winked, gesturing for someone behind me to step forward.
In the several minutes it took to shush Sonia and convince her I would not turn back around and take Asher’s picture, I made my way to Café Brauer, where the main event was being hosted.
“Okay, I’m here now, thank you for humiliating me in front of strangers, yet again.” I had to raise my volume as I walked in, the voices and clatter of hundreds of people echoing off the polished hard woods. I handed my wrap to a smiling coat check attendant and waited for a ticket.
“Any time, babe. Remember, your objective is simple. Keep the cougars off my brother. I swear, last year, one of them tried to crawl into his lap.”
“Right. I’m on it,” I told her, turning back to the teeming room. What I couldn’t tell her was that I, myself, planned to crawl into Malachi’s lap soon, so there likely wouldn’t be room for anyone else. I nabbed a glass of champagne from a passing server’s tray.
“I’m serious, Ri. Stick with him. Get up in there. Protect his virtue.”
“Mm hmm.” I downed the drink in a few gulps. I would not be protecting Malachi Dobrev’s virtue tonight. Not even a little. “Listen, I gotta go. I need to go find him.”
“I love you. Be good but not too good. Let loose a little, Ri. You’ve been working that juicy booty off. You deserve to have some fun tonight.”
A beep in my ear made me pull my phone back. Malachi’s name flashed across the screen. My heart leaped. “I will, love you!” I hung up on Sonnie, switching the call to Mal.
“Hello?”
“It’s six oh five. You were supposed to be in my arms five minutes ago.” Mal’s voice sank into me like a caress, even as the background noise on his end clashed with the chatter I heard in real time from the people around me. “Where are you?”
I glanced around, trying to orient myself. The café was a popular spot for these types of functions. High-end weddings and corporate fundraisers. The setup was a familiar one.
Candles gleamed from the tables that circled the room, leaving space for a dance floor in the center. Fun, colorful flowerarrangements were dotted here and there. A jazz band crooned on a stage, just soft enough not to disturb the conversations throughout the room. They’d probably crank up the volume for dancing after dinner and the auction.
Digital screens around the room scrolled through images of what would be auctioned off tonight, as well as pictures and stories of children who would benefit from our donations.
“I’m on the left side. Near one of the screens.”
“Left side from the stage? Or the door?” He sounded urgent, rushed like the pulse pounding through my veins. This was it.This was it. I was about to be face-to-face with Malachi Dobrev and there was nothing stopping me from grabbing him the way I wanted. Kissing him. Feeling him against me. Stripping him out of his tux later and running my hands down his chest.
My heart squeezed. “The stage. I’m circling around.”
“I’m towards the middle. What are you wearing?”
Malachi had asked me that question over the phone many times in the last few months. I’d never heard him say the words with such frustrated desperation.
“Red. Silk.” I scooted around a table, heading into the melee.
“I…that’s not you. Wait, I…Rija.”
I turned, the whispered wonder in his voice steering me, somehow. And there he was, staring at me, looking like a Calvin Klein model. Jaw freshly shaved, hair combed back from his face. He had a rainbow polka dot handkerchief sticking artfully out of his pocket. The perfect counterbalance of whimsy to what would otherwise be a devastating package.
“Mal.”
Despite the people milling back and forth in front of us, he smiled like he heard me. I realized we were still holding our phones to our ears, standing in the middle of a fancy party, gazing at each other like star-crossed lovers from across the room.
He slid his phone in to his breast pocket while he strode toward me. I stumbled to meet him halfway, shoving my phone back into my purse to free my hands up for…for what, I wasn’t sure. This moment had played a starring role in my fantasies—both PG and X rated—all week long.
Would he sweep me into a chaste kiss? Would I leap into his arms? Would we haul each other into the coat closet? (Those specific daydreams got X rated, fast.)
He strode forward, turning to slip past a woman in a sparkly navy dress, and then he wasthere,arms reaching around me, pulling me into his chest.
“Rija.” He sounded like he’d been searching for me his whole life. Like he’d been waiting for too long to have me here—right here, in this room, in this dress, in his arms.
I understood the feeling. I buried my face against his neck as his hand ran up my spine to bury into my hair. He breathed me in. My arms clasped around him, feeling the muscles of his back flex through his jacket as we swayed in place.
In the middle of a crowded ballroom, surrounded by strangers, it felt like coming home. So momentous my throat tightened.
